home the first, and when this recurred in the afternoon Ethel began
to understand his motive. The High Street led past the spot where
the accident had taken place, though neither she nor any of the
others knew exactly where it was, except Norman, on whose mind the
scene was branded indelibly; she guessed that it was to avoid it that
he went along what was called Randall's Alley, his usual short cut to
school.

The Sunday brought back to the children that there was no one to hear
their hymns; but Richard was a great comfort, watching over the
little ones more like a sister than a brother. Ethel was ashamed of
herself when she saw him taking thought for them, tying Blanche's
bonnet, putting Aubrey's gloves on, teaching them to put away their
Sunday toys, as if he meant them to be as neat and precise as
himself.

Dr. May did not encounter the family dinner, nor attempt a second
going to church; but Blanche was very glorious as she led him down to
drink tea, and, before going up again, he had a conversation with
Alan Ernescliffe, who felt himself obliged to leave Stoneborough
early on the morrow.

"I can endure better to go now," said he, "and I shall hear of you
often; Hector will let me know, and Richard has promised to write."

"Ay, you must let us often have a line. I should guess you were a
letter-writing man."

"I have hitherto had too few friends who cared to hear of me to write
much, but the pleasure of knowing that any interest is taken in me